Down The Rabbit Hole and Back Again
by Imoshen86
Summary: "I think you don't understand Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad", and he was a little impressed that she could pronounce his name without flaw. "We're not the bad guys here." "It seems we both have very different definitions of 'bad'." "We can help you find your answers", Lucy called after him. Altair slowly turned around and for a moment, he thought it was true.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a fill for a prompt on the dreamwidth kink meme. It went like this:

"So with The Secret Crusade taken into account, Altair and Malik are reincarnated into the 21st century with the same names, same appearance and personality, but they don't know each other. All throughout their lives they've had little hints, the occasional weird dream, and déjà vu about their past life as Assassins, though it never really bothers them until one day when they run into each other on the streets or at a café or whatever, and get hit with an unexplainable feeling of recognition (and what they think is shallow attraction). Cue confusion, being scarily familiar with each other, and the both of them trying to piece together some kind of closure from their 12th century memories – since Malik never got to find out what happened to the Order and Masyaf, and Altair had to live with the guilt of leaving Malik to die."

I took it a little further than that...

* * *

Altair fell.

Wind was ripping at his clothes as he rushed towards earth and for a moment he thought he wouldn't make it, couldn't make – it was impossible for a man to survive such a fall and the cold grip of fear closed around his heart, crushing it in a merciless tight fist and it was hard to suck the air in, to breath as panic crawled slowly across his soul like a spider. He closed his eyes, preparing for the impact to come but it never did, his fall never stopped and maybe, that was the worst feeling.

He woke with a silent scream on his lips. The bedsheets were tangled around his legs, sweat clinging to his skin like the memory of the spider climbing up his spine. Altair sat up, breathing heavily and running his fingers through his sweat-soaked her, his heart beating wildly.

Shit.

It happened more often now. These dreams in which he fell towards earth with the scream of an eagle tearing through the sky and seconds before he would hit the ground he'd wake up, confused and afraid. He always thought he would die but the impact never came as he always woke up before his body would be crushed. He hated nights like these, absolutely hated them. He could hardly find sleep again once he was up, so Altair swung his legs over the bed's edge and sat up, elbows resting on his knees and he rubbed his face with both his hands, swallowing heavily. He glanced at the small digital clock on his nightstand. The big red numbers told him it was just shortly after 4 am. Great... one more hour and he would have to get up anyway.

Altair straightened his back, his head rolling to one side to the other and his bones popped back into place with a loud crack while he stood up, heading for his bathroom first to take a piss and then walking towards the kitchen. He pulled out a glass from one of the cabinets and filled it with water, gulping everything down in one go. He gripped the counter's edges and his head hung low between his shoulders as the moon's light fell in silver waves through his window, creating large shadows crawling across the walls.

The dreams had gotten worse.

They came more often.

They felt more real.

This time he could actually feel the wind, could smell the desert and feel the sun's heat on his skin, taste the dirt... He shuddered, goosebumps spreading down his arms and spine and he pushed himself off the counter, sighing deeply once more. At least it was this dream and not... one of the other ones as he felt even worse after waking up from them, feeling guilty and ashamed, sometimes dirty too.

He made up his mind then and grabbed everything to get his coffeemaker to work and once the water run through the filter he went for a shower. The cold water helped him to sort his thoughts, to bring him back into reality as he could still hear the eagle's cry echoing inside his head. It hasn't been always like that, well, at least the dreams haven't. They had changed over the years and when Altair got older. When he was a child he had nightmares. Terrible nightmares, large shadows growing in front of him, men without faces staring down on him, blood covering the ground to his feet and a sword cutting through the air, the sound as something was hit, something wet, the cracking of bones and then the sound of a body hitting the ground accompanied by the feeling of pure horror as if his world had ended, as if he just lost something very important, very dear to him and sometimes, he could hear someone screaming, someone sounding very young like a small boy. There were good ones too even though only a few. Dreams in which he lay in a field staring up the sky and watching the clouds pass by. But the older he got the more violent his dreams became. He actually went to see a shrink about it but they couldn't help. Nothing could help. He had tried sleeping pills, hoping they would take away the dreams but that didn't work either. Maybe he just had to live with them.

He got dressed after he had his first cup of coffee and watched himself in the large mirror which was hanging on his bedroom door, turning this way and that way to make sure he could leave the house presentable. He pulled a face as he got close in front of the smooth glass, his fingers touching the skin underneath his eyes. Maybe he should get one of those... makeup roller sticks. The ones for women with caffeine in them to get rid of dark circles. He stuck out his tongue at his reflection – nah, he wasn't that vain. Maybe a little as he thought they made him look older than he actually was. He closed the door behind him with a small 'click' as he went outside, way too early and he'd arrive an hour early for work but going back to sleep hadn't been an option either.

He was sitting in the train when he dozed off again, his cheek resting on his hand and no, he wasn't drooling it just looked like it. He was dreaming and his leg twitched as he was pulled right back into this other life he seemed to undergo.

xxx

Malik arrived at work an hour late – which was very unusual for him as he didn't hate anything more than being late and as he watched the knowing grins of his co-workers he knew they would never let him forget that he, Malik al-Sayf, was late for work. It wasn't his fault though, no, not really and right now he tried to convince himself that maybe he had been still asleep when his alarm had been going off. That's the only reason why what'd happened, well, actually happened. He couldn't have figure out how to turn it off. He just couldn't. He had stared at his phone, his alarm hooting loudly and for the longest time. After a while he had just given up and put his phone underneath his pillow, then put his blanket on top of it because it was still loud as fuck, then went out of the room only to walk into the living room and staring at the TV as if he'd never seen one before. It was strange, really but most of all terrifying. This was just something that didn't happen. You just did not forget how to turn off the alarm on your phone. You just did not forget what a TV was. You just didn't and yet it happened to Malik this morning. He probably just had been still half-asleep. Maybe even sleepwalking if that was possible? But he wasn't going insane. This wasn't dementia starting, please.

Yet he sat down at his desk turning on his computer and waiting for it to run before he opened his browser and started searching for symptoms of dementia.

Disorientation?

No, not at all.

Impaired speech?

No again.

Personality changes?

Nope.

Forgetfulness?

Yeah, shit kind of. It had started a few months ago. He sometimes... just kind of woke up at a place where he couldn't remember how he got there or what the hell he wanted there. The strangest place he ever woke to had been on top of a skyscraper.

All the other symptoms didn't match and he didn't know if he should feel relieved or not. He decided for being still worried and considered seeing a doctor later the day. But first... work.

His day was going slow as Malik couldn't really focus on his work. He was a graphic designer and they just got his huge commission for this pharmaceutical company – Absterg or something... Abstergo, yes that was the name of it and he was currently working on their logo. He didn't like any of his drafts so far and he only got until the end of the week then he had to come up with something he could present. He threw his what felt like the millionth sketch that day into the bin and leaned back heavily in his chair, folding his arms behind his head and looking up the ceiling, rubbing his face then. This was just no use and he still couldn't forget about the incident this morning.

Maybe it was something neurological. Brain tumor? God no, he wouldn't google the symptoms for that. There was one thing you really had to know about Malik: he was a damn wuss when it came to his health. One might actually dare to say he suffered from a mild anxiety disorder, but those who knew Malik's background would understand as he'd seen and experienced things most people did not in a whole lifetime and he was only 27.

This was not the moment to think about it and he leaned forwards, his elbows resting on top of his desk, chin propped in his palms - at least he could say 'palms' as in plural.

So when he looked at his clock and it finally showed 5 pm he was more than relieved that he could go home. Most of his colleagues hadn't bother him, they knew better than to talk with him when he was 'in a mood' as they liked to call it. He wasn't really a people person, never had been. Even though he'd been living in this country for more than twenty years he'd never really felt at home. This wasn't home, he felt more like a guest but going back to his country, to his homeland wasn't an option either. Not since the war had started there a year ago. He didn't have a home, not really. More than often he just felt like a nomad. He didn't really belong here but he doubted it had something to do with him fleeing his country back in 1987 when he'd only been an infant... sometimes it felt more like as if this... wasn't his time. It was difficult to explain and he had never told anybody about it as they wouldn't understand. Hell, even he didn't understand so how could he explain it to somebody else?

Today just wasn't his day and as he was riding the train home, he wanted to close his eyes to pretend all the other people weren't there. It didn't work though as he felt like a sardine in a can, smelling the sweat of all the other people, hearing them coughing, sniffling and all. The next stop came and a lot of people got off and there was finally an empty seat he could take, slumping down heavily on it and leaning his head back against the fogged glass. Malik took deep breaths, glad that it wouldn't take much longer until his station came. But the easing of tension didn't come. It felt like as if somebody was watching him and when he cracked one eye open he could see him, sitting there a few seats away watching him with the most strange eyes he'd ever seen. A bright amber flashing at him from beneath the shadows of his hood covering his head.

Those eyes felt awfully familiar and sent a shiver up his spine and Malik felt cold. Just what the hell was he staring at? Probably just some weirdo. Nothing unusual happening when he was riding the train. Most people stared at him especially after 9/11 – at least they didn't insulted him anymore. It had gotten better ever since there was a black guy sitting in the White House.

Malik opened both his eyes, turning his head to meet his gaze fully and when he did, the man jerked as if Malik had caught him, which he kind of did, quickly turning his head and staring out into the darkness and the colorful lights flashing by as the train moved through the night. That was better – look the other way boy because Malik was in no mood for some stranger eye-fucking him. He got off the next station, watching Malik from the corner of his eye and his skin prickled as he tried to pretend that this stranger was not staring at him. He sighed though once he was gone, angry at himself for getting worked up over a weirdo. The cabin was almost empty now and Malik could finally relax, dozing until he had to get up.

When he turned the keys in the lock, walking into his dark apartment he felt more lost than ever, going to the fridge and pulling out a water bottle, slumping down on his couch and turning on the TV – at least he didn't forget how that worked this time. Malik didn't really watch, just stared off into empty space, not listening and bothering with the pictures flickering across the screen and illuminating him in a soft blue glow. He didn't eat that evening. He didn't go to see a doctor either.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This is the censored version of chapter 2. You can find the full chapter at AO3.

* * *

Altair came home late which wasn't unusual. He was an employee for a small security company where he would have to work early in the morning, collection the money from various stores to bring it to the bank and he had a second job where he went to three times a week, working in the evening at a small club as a security as well, basically telling people that no, they won't get in here wearing these shoes and yes, you can pass. Today was one of those days where he came home in the middle of the night and with only a few hours of sleep ahead. But this was the only way for him to save enough money to go back to school next spring.

He sighed heavily as he dragged himself into his living room, sinking clumsily onto his coach and rolling his shoulders, his tired muscles aching and he rubbed his eyes with one hand before getting up again, walking to his fridge to get out some beer. It wasn't like that he drank often, he hardly did. To be honest it had been just a few years ago that he had alcohol for the first time as he was Muslim or rather... used to be. His believes had changed like so many other things and now here he was, sitting in his dark apartment with an unopened can of beer in his hand and he put it back on the table just a second later.

He'd had another dream on his way to work and he still tried to forget the images. He remembered some words shouted at him, thick with a French accent and yet he understood everything. He remembered the cold feeling of fear and wild hot rage battling with each other and in the end there was nothing left but lonely remorse. The rest of the day hadn't been much better and the evening was even worse. He couldn't forget the man's face he saw on the train as he was heading for his second job as he usually arrived one to two hours early before the club would open. That man seemed familiar and he couldn't shake off the feeling that he knew him, somehow. Something like that had never happened before and he would have thought it only existed in a poorly written novel but never actually happen to himself in real life. He was still thinking back to that face not able to forget it although something seemed to be off and not right about the picture. The man seemed familiar, yes, but there wasn't something right and Altair couldn't put his finger on it. He shrugged with his shoulders, grabbing the can and opening it with a loud 'plop', taking the first sip. His face turned into a small grimace. Yep, he still didn't like beer no matter how often he tried it, but he always ended up buying some every so often because maybe he will like it this time.

There was a small red light flashing to his right and it was then that his attention was caught by his answering machine. Three new messages. He groaned and leaned to his side, reaching for the small button and pushing. The short beep came and the message started.

"Hello Mr. Iben-Laad this is Tracy from Abst-" She still couldn't pronounce his name. She sounded so annoying, this bright cheerful voice and he imagined her smiling every time she called him. She probably would still be smiling if he stood in front of her telling her to fuck off and leave him alone, probably wishing him a good day too.

He practically punched the button to switch to the next message. The digital number flipped and the second message went on.

"It's Tracy and I'm calling fro-"

Fuck no – skip to the next and last one.

"Please give us a call back as soon as possible, it's Tracy ag-"

For a moment Altair just thought about throwing the machine out of his window. This has been going on for a few weeks now and he still had no idea why a pharmaceutical company was interested in him, offering him a job. He told them multiple times that no, he didn't want to work for them even though the money was good but after one time, where he talked on the phone with this one guy something at the back of his mind told him that it was better to reject their offer even though it'd pay more than what he currently got with his two jobs. Some things just weren't worth it and after he'd done some research, finding a homepage only a few months old and no other entries at all on google he thought he was better off without them. That didn't stop them from calling him though and now he got their messages every other day trying to convince him to come by for a job interview.

No thank you and he pushed the button to delete all three messages.

His muscles and body felt stiff and he groaned in pain when he turned his head to one side, his neck hurting. He got up again and walked towards the small DVD shelf where he crouched down and pulled out a pile of movies only to reach behind them, pulling out just a single one. He sat back on the couch once he had turned on the TV, put in the movie and leaned back staring mindlessly at the screen. He turned the volume down to a minimum, only watching halfheartedly. He pressed forward to get to the parts he was interested in but it didn't do the trick. He just couldn't stop thinking.

An image flashed up in his mind and sharp pain followed soon, making it feel as if someone had just hit him with a hammer across the back of his head.

Eyes. A pair of staring eyes, betrayal, hurt and sorrow written starkly across them.

Nothing more. Just a pair of eyes but it was enough to make him gasp, the pain only slowly faded and traveling through one side of his body. Just what the fuck happened? Altair held up his hand in front of him, spreading his fingers and counting them. He then smiled even though it was empty and hollow but nope... not a stroke. Everything was functioning as it should be. Then why was his mind playing tricks with him? Those eyes he remembered as they had watched him tonight in the train. The same eyes as the man's he hadn't been able to take his sight off.

He turned down the volume of his TV completely and just let the images run across the screen, not paying too much attention. He made himself comfortable on his couch laying with face turned away from the TV and one hand tugged underneath his chin. He was tired, very tired and sometimes it felt as if he'd lived a thousand years not able to get some rest. Rest... restless. He often felt restless as if something was chasing him, as if somebody had attached strings to his limbs, pulling every now and then and keeping him at place, not allowing him to move into one direction or the other. Sometimes he felt played by an invisible puppet master, letting him dance whenever it was desired. It wasn't his life – it was just as simple as that. This wasn't his life. This, all of this felt wrong and no matter how hard he tried to find his way it always seemed as if he chose the wrong path. His attempt to gather enough money to going to school again, it was his last one to find his true self. There were just so many things he was interested in. History, maybe. That sounded good. Maybe something he wouldn't get bored soon with as it often happened with other things. One reason why he hadn't been able to finish school when he was younger. It simply bored him and he couldn't find the sense of going there anyway. Sometimes it just seemed as if nothing was true. But if nothing was true then what should he live for?

He fell asleep before he knew it but this time it was just empty space he was walking through, white engulfing him as he moved through thick fog but no matter which way he chose he didn't find anything there and it left him no choice but to keep on searching. If he only knew what he was looking for.

xxx

Malik couldn't get rid of the image of those bright amber eyes hunting him. He was turning around once more in his bed as he tried to fall asleep but sleep wouldn't come tonight. So he got up again, wearing nothing but his boxers and he stopped in front of his window. He was living at the twenty fourth floor and the view he got from up there was amazing as he could look over the whole city, watching all the flashing, colorful lights, planes landing and cars moving through the streets like a thousand little ants. He leaned heavily against the window's frame, watching the life splayed across in front of him a few minutes longer. He could still remember broken fragments of his childhood, could still remember just how different life was there compared to this. People living in destroyed houses, bullet holes decorating facades if there still were any. No running water, no electricity most of the times and his mother cooking with gas. It were only a few, small images he could remember and maybe some of them weren't true and he just made them up but... even if they weren't real he still wanted to hold onto them as they were the best memories he had of his parents.

He pulled a bit back and he could see his reflection on the smooth surface of the glass. Sometimes he didn't recognize himself and his fingers moved across his chin. Maybe he should let grow a small goatee there. It certainly felt right and he knew it would probably look good at him. His eyes fell back on his left arm. A arm that shouldn't be there and the doctors had told him multiple times how lucky he was that they had been able to save it. When his gaze went towards the city lights again he reached for his cheek as he watched a lonely tear rolling across it. His fingers came back dry and he noticed that it had started raining, water drops rolling down the window and his reflection. It would have surprised him anyway.

xxx

"We found him six weeks ago. Why isn't he still here?" He turned around facing her, his hands crossed behind his back, her smaller frame reflecting in his glasses.

"I think the whole procedure will go more smoothly if he comes here by his own free will. I don't have a good feeling if we have to sedate him and just force him into the machine." She spoke quickly but even though she tried hard not to show how nervous she was in front of him, she couldn't keep her voice from trembling.

"I hardly care about your feelings. I don't care about his feelings either. I want him here, I want him in that machine and I want it now. Go get a squad and let them bring him here."

"But if we force him we might risk losing him and-"

"We won't lose him", he smiled but it didn't look friendly at all and there was a predatory look in his eyes. "If he's really who we think he is he will survive the procedure."

"But what if-"

"No, no more of this." He held up one finger and pointed at her, his lips pressed to a thin white line. "You're here by your own free will. That doesn't mean I can't remove you from this project. There are no other options. You either get him here by the end of the week or I get somebody else to fill your position."

"No Sir, that won't be necessary", she swallowed thickly.

"I see we understand each other Ms. Stillman. Go get back to work."

"Yes Sir." She turned around as she wanted to leave before she stopped. She hadn't dared to bring up the subject earlier. "There's another thing though..." He looked again at her, his eyebrows rising with curiosity. "Oh?"

"We might have found another one..."

He smiled again and she thought she had never seen anybody looking so terrifying like him at the moment. "Is that so? Same era?"

"Same year actually", she swallowed again and held on to that little notebook in her arms.

"Really?" He licked over his lips and she got sick by the sight. "Someone he knows?"

"Someone he was with at Solomon's Temple."

His eyes narrowed and now she knew how a predator looked like before he killed his prey.

"Perfect."


	3. Chapter 3

It was Wednesday and Altair hated Wednesday. The middle of the week with still two more days to go until it was weekend and since he had worked late yesterday he was tired as hell and could barely keep his eyes open when he drove the van, heading for JC Penny's.

"You look like shit dude."

He glanced sideways at Toto.

Toto wasn't his real name and Altair couldn't actually remember his real one anymore as he had introduced himself as Toto when he'd started working for the company and everybody else was calling him like that. He always wondered why he got that name. He didn't look like Totoro at all since he assumed that Toto maybe was the short version for that. He wasn't chubby and he didn't have an umbrella with him all the time and he never talked about any Studio Ghibli movies so he doubted he was a fan of them. Toto was an animal of a man with broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms and hair cut so short that it almost looked like as if he was bald. His uniform always looked like as if it was way too small for him and sometimes Altair thought the fabric would tear any second, especially when he bend down to pick something up. Toto was simple and not really a bright man but he was one of the few Altair could tolerate as he didn't talk much and mostly minded his own business. Not today as it seemed.

"Yeah? Look at yourself in the mirror then", he told him without offering him another glance. Toto just laughed.

"No man, I mean really... You don't sleep well lately?"

He usually didn't make his tours with Toto so it wasn't really surprisingly that he asked him something like that. Usually he worked with James, a tiny man, used to Altair's dark circles underneath his eyes and the complete opposite of Toto – at least when it came to appearance. James wore glasses, was even smaller than Altair and looked like as if he would snap like a match if somebody pushed him too hard. Not like someone you would expect working for security and driving money transporters. Today James had called in sick and Altair had switched his route, making him end up with Toto.

Altair scoffed. "Something like that", he shrugged and hoped the matter would be dismissed as he pulled into the parking lot driving towards the back of the store where they had their vault and with the staff already waiting for them to pick up the earnings from the day before, all counted and neatly packed. "Maybe we should get you some coffee then", Toto suggested and looking out of the window.

It was raining as it had been all morning, the sky covered by thick heavy clouds which would almost touch the ground. It made Altair feel claustrophobic, he stopped the van and put the gear into parking, Toto already opened the door before he held in for a second. "I'll go get the money. You'll stand by the door", he told him and he nodded, wondering why Toto would tell him that when they always did it like this. The driver was guarding the door – company policy. He got out of the van as well, one hand on the gun he wore on his hip. He didn't like guns and it was probably the only thing he hated about this job. Of course he knew how to shoot and he knew how to defend himself even without weapons but he hoped he would never have to use it.

Toto went ahead and Altair strolled lazily behind him, greeting the security of JC Penny who opened the door for Toto to enter the back of the store, a young woman leading him to the vault where they had their money. He leaned against the wall, his eyes roaming his surroundings, looking for anything that seemed odd. Something odd could be a nearby parked car with a running engine, but it was so early in the morning that there weren't many cars in the parking lot and since it was raining there were only a few pedestrians on the streets. He didn't talk with JC's security man. He didn't believe in small talk and he didn't know why he should bother with it. He could hear Toto laughing from the inside, followed by the soft chuckle of the woman. Toto's laughter sounded like the barking of a dog though and Altair assumed he'd just made some joke, flirting with the young retailer before he heard another door opening and closing shortly after - so this could take a while.

To his surprise it took Toto only fifteen minutes and he came outside with the locked, heavy box in his arms, his face a bit red and sweaty and Altair accompanied him back to the van, opening the back doors and waiting for Toto to store the money.

As they closed the doors once again and sat back in the van, Altair starting the engine, Toto clapped his back. "Come on... we're ahead of our schedule. We can afford taking a break and getting you some coffee."

Altair glanced at the clock on the dashboard. They weren't ahead of their schedule. In fact they were a little behind and he just wanted to open his mouth to tell Toto so, but... aw, fuck it.

"Alright", he nodded. "Let's get some coffee."

There was a Starbucks just down the street but Altair was making a U-turn and heading the opposite direction. He didn't like Starbucks. The coffee didn't taste any different from any other small coffee shop, it probably tasted worse. Their products just had fancy names and were overpriced anyway. Besides, if he wanted a large coffee he wanted a large coffee not grande or venti. So he decided to take them to one of his favorite places, a small shop next to the main street and run by an old man who came from Turkey to the US more than three decades ago. Altair loved his coffee and he loved sitting in there, sipping his secret addiction and watching the people passing by the windows.

They had just ordered and found their places when Toto excused himself to take a leak, as he liked to say it. Altair waved him off, taking off his raincoat and waiting for his coffee to be ready [a large one, thank you very much] and looking out the window as they had found a table right next to it. The place was empty besides the two of them as it was mostly and he sometimes wondered how the old man -Cem- could survive and pay for the rent and everything with the little frequency. The door to the shop opened again and he could hear the jingling of bells but didn't pay it much attention.

"One mocha, to go please."

Altair completely froze and a chill run down his spine, a lump of ice building inside his lower stomach and the cold spread through the rest of his body. He turned his head first, trying to look over his shoulder back at the counter but didn't manage to catch a glimpse so he turned fully. That voice – he knew that voice and before he could even see him, he knew who it belonged to as he suddenly saw those eyes swimming back into his vision and when he finally looked at him it all became clear. He remembered his voice and for a few long moments he didn't know why but then it came back to him and hit him like a brick across the head.

It was him again, the man from the train, the man he could barely stop thinking about and he leaned back into his chair, pushing himself away from the table, the chair's legs scrapping across the ground and making a loud noise causing the man to turn towards Altair. Their eyes met but this time Altair didn't flinch, didn't yield and held his gaze.

Altair stood up to suddenly that he almost knocked over the chair, his fingers grabbing the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles turned white. For a moment confusion flashed across the man's face and he tilted his head to one side, looking Altair up and down before an amused little grin spread across his lips for a split second.

Right. His uniform. It was an ugly gray and he often thought he looked more like a janitor who was allowed to carry guns than a security man driving money transporters. He turned back towards the counter as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened but Altair could see how he hunched his shoulders, how he went tense. The fingers of his left hand closed and opened rhythmically. For some reason he thought it looked odd as if he could remember him only having one arm.

"This is the second time I run into you", he heard him saying and his voice caused goosebumps spreading across his skin like a rash and each letter rolling over his tongue sounded like a long faded memory, all drained out of its colors leaving nothing but black and white. It left him feeling dizzy. There was the hint of mocking within his voice and he could imagine the little frown on his face. "Do we know each other?", Altair asked then and he let slowly go of the table, not thinking he needed its support any longer. He stood straight then and picked up the small hat he had to wear during work and which had been laying on the table next to him just a few seconds ago. He held it in front of his body, his fingers twisting the elastic material.

"I don't think so", he told Altair, sounding bored and he glanced back at him over his shoulder. "What is this? Am I getting stalked by you now?", he pondered, his voice sharp and Altair could tell he was just at the edge of snapping. Altair scoffed. "Right", and he rolled his eyes.

His mocha was done and he paid for it, placing a cap on top of the styrofoam cup. He made his turn to leave but Altair just couldn't let him go like that. "Well?", he asked as he couldn't think of anything better. All those other thoughts whirling inside his head like a mad vortex sounded too crazy anyway.

I saw you and I can't forget your eyes – give me your number? Tch, no way in hell.

I think there's obviously some chemistry between us. Can I have your number? No, worse than the one before.

"Maybe fate has some plans for you and me."

Altair had absolutely no idea why he said it. It sounded like the dumbest thing ever, something he only heard people saying on TV in a bad late-night movie. It did made him stop though, halting within his tracks just before he reached the door. "Fate?" He sounded smug. "I don't believe in fate." His hand reached for the door, pulling it open and the loud sound of rain splashing down on earth filled Altair's ears. "You know, after all... nothing is true", he made a small rotating motion with his hand over his shoulder and with that he stepped outside, the door falling shut behind him, the bells jingling.

Altair stared on the spot he was standing just seconds before long after he was gone and was trembling, his whole frame shaking.

Nothing is true.

Everything is permitted.

Everything. Is. Permitted. The words echoed inside his head, sounding old and wrinkled and he thought he could remember a face, an old man with a bad eye and a long white beard, clapping him on his shoulder and for a moment he was filled with pride though he had no idea why. His legs came into motion before he realized it and he pulled the door open, stepping outside onto the sidewalk, the rain pouring fiercely down on him and soaking him to the bones. He looked down one side of the street than the other but he was gone, all he could see was gray in gray.

"Altair?" He heard the jingle of bells again, Toto standing in the door behind him seeking shelter from the rain. Somewhere he could hear the sound of sirens of police cars. "Everything alright?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah... everything alright", he lied.

xxx

That was it then. No more coffee from that place and Malik really liked it! The mocha tasted good for a change as Cem actually knew how to make it.

He was cold all over and soaked thoroughly when he stopped in front of the small apartment complex. He still got an hour before he'd have to start work so there was nothing against visiting an old friend. Besides, he hadn't seen her for far too long and lately, he felt the need to see somebody familiar.

He cringed. That guy in the coffee shop looked familiar. Well, of course since he'd seen him just the other day on the train. But that was not it, that wasn't all of the story. It really was a story, wasn't it? It felt like as if they shared one and yet, he couldn't really name the tale but he knew it was there, hiding in the dark waiting for Malik to find it. He shook his head. Not now. It was still too early in the morning for him to set his wit's to work and he pushed the doorbell and waiting to get buzzed in.

Two sets of stairs later, a turn and a short walk along a barely lit corridor he stopped in front of a dark green painted door with a peephole in the middle of it, staring back at Malik. To his left a door opened and he glanced sideways, watching a man stepping outside with a bag of garbage in his hand. He thought it looked odd since he wore brightly polished black shoes and they looked a bit too expensive as if someone living in this neighborhood could afford a pair like that. Marta opened up and the wrinkled face smiled at him, her eyes shinning with warmth. "Come on in boy. You look like you need to warm up. Is it still raining out there?"

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Not at Marta, never at her. He just shook his head and stepped into her small apartment, waiting for her to follow him into the small kitchen and sitting down at the table. Once she took a seat next to him he pulled off his coat, hanging it over the chair's back and placing the empty cup of mocha in front of him.

"You want something? I made some baklava the other day."

Baklava – how long has it been that he had some of that? Too long, that was for sure as he couldn't remember. "That would be great, thank you", he nodded and Marta got up again, shifting in her small kitchen and pulling old cabinets open, placing two plates in front of them onto the table and opening her oven taking out a baking sheet. She'd already cut it into small pieces and used her fingers to serve two of them on his plate, then on hers before she put the sheet back. "Coffee?" He shook his head and Marta sat back down again.

He picked up one piece of the pastry and bit into it, the flavor of pistachios invading his senses and it was sweet, oh so very sweet and he wished he still had some of his mocha left but it was good. Not as good as his mother used to make it but Marta had practiced over the years and improved her skills. She looked at him with big round eyes, waiting for him to say something. He nodded and licked his fingers. "'s good", he told her and Marta's lips broke into one of the biggest smiles he'd ever seen and she bit into her own, chewing slowly and swallowing eventually.

There was a children's home right down the street and only a few minutes away from Marta's house. It wasn't the best neighborhood but it could be worse. When Malik had been a child he often came visiting Marta since it was only a short walk and she always welcomed him with open arms. Over the years she had become something close to a mother for him and even now as he had long left the home moving into his own apartment he still came every other month visiting the old woman and catching up with her.

He didn't visit the children's home.

Lately though he could see a change when he came over to her place, usually before he had to go to work as he was too tired when he got off. Marta seemed worn out and her small apartment didn't look as tidy anymore as it used to be. Even now there were dirty plates piling up in the sink, the floor stained and on the small windowsill stood a vase with a bouquet in, one he got her last month and the flowers had died a long time ago.

"How are things?", he asked her in a small voice, the baklava on his plate forgotten but she just smiled at him, blinking a few times. "I missed my favorite little boy, that's all", she told him even though her voice sounded pressed and thick. She waved at him. "You know, lately I often think back when you've been younger. When you and Kadar came visiting me with dirty feet since you both didn't like to wear shoes during summer..." She cut herself off, her eyes growing empty and distant and she didn't move for the longest time. She folded her hands in her lap looking down, her long silver hair falling into her eyes. He could hear her sniffle.

He knew. He didn't have to ask her but knew. Next week Kadar would be dead for four years. He had tried not to think about it to just shove it away at the back of his mind but no matter how hard he tried, the memories came always crawling back and there was nothing he could do. Malik simply nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "He always liked your baklava", he murmured softly and startled when Marta reached across the table to take his hand, his left one, her thumb stroking across it. He had to withdraw, not able to stand her touch.

"Could we just not... talk about him?", he said after a while, the clock on Marta's kitchen wall the only sound breaking the silence, its soft tick-tock hammering into his ears. Marta looked hurt for a short moment but then the expression on her face melted and when Malik glanced upwards he saw pity – he hated pity. He couldn't be angry at Marta, couldn't be angry at the woman that had given him and Kadar something close to a home when they'd been younger, alone and frightened in a country they didn't understand. He didn't understand it now either.

"Alright then", Marta sighed and she leaned back in her chair. "Are you sure you don't want some coffee? I could make you some", she offered and that smile was back on her face, a smile only women her age could manage, all warm and motherly but he could see that the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth had gotten deeper.

Again he shook his head. "There's more, isn't there?", he asked her quietly and the rain outside got lighter. "Something you haven't told me yet."

"I'm going to move, Malik", she simply told him as she knew it was wasted energy to keep something away from him. He was good at reading people, always had been and most of the times she didn't manage to hide things from him. "I got the letter last week. They're going to tear the buildings on this block down, the children's home too. I can't afford a new place and I'm too old anyway. I found this cutest little retirement home", and she turned around, grabbing something on the kitchen counter and handing him a small brochure. Eve's Garden it read on the top, a picture underneath it showing a white house standing at the end of a green field with a small path leading towards it made out of white pebbles. It looked peaceful, almost nice. Even he had to admit that.

He looked up at her, the brochure between his fingers and blinked a couple of times. "They're tearing it down? Why?"

Marta sighed heavily. She'd been living here a long time. He came to the country when he was two years old, almost three living in the home down the street and Marta had been here just as long if not even longer.

"The block was bought by some investor anonymously. I don't know what they plan... a mall or something, oh what do I know", and she shook her head. "I have to be out of here by the end of the month."

"By the end of the month? But that's in two weeks!" Talk about short notice...

Marta smiled again and this time it looked empty. "I know darling. But there's nothing I can do and besides... my bones are a bit tired lately. I can't do as much as I used to do. It'll be better for me anyway."

Malik eyed her sceptically. "That doesn't sound like you", he murmured and picked up the baklava, bitting off another mouthful.

"No it doesn't, I-" She sighed heavily and looked up the ceiling, blinking rapidly and he knew she was fighting with tears. When she found his gaze again her eyes looked wet but no tears had fallen. "I always thought I would die here, you know?", she said softly, her voice small and kind of lost.

"Yeah I know", he sighed and this time it was him who reached across the table to hold her hand, the only comfort he could offer to her.


	4. Chapter 4

He got a call somewhere around noon.

"Mr. al-Sayf?"

"This is him", he said and tucked his cell between his shoulder and ear so he had his hands free to still type on his keyboard.

"St. Joseph hospital. We have you here as a contact in case of emergency?"

Malik stopped typing and his hand reached for his phone, putting it on his other ear as he sat up straight. "Yes?"

"We're calling because of Mrs. Marta Rodriguez and-"

"Did something happen?", he interrupted her feeling strangely calm and yet, he knew that something broke inside of him. "She had a heart attack this morning and-", "But I saw her this morning, she was fine."

The woman on the other line sighed. "Something like that can come very suddenly, Mr. al-Sayf. She's currently in the ER getting treatment but we think it'd be better for you to arrive here as soon as possible."

Malik nodded, "No, I'll come right away."

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and for a moment he just sat there motionless, staring at his flickering screen. He couldn't feel a thing, not even the cold grip of fear about losing her. Maybe he didn't only lose Kadar four years ago, but maybe he also lost a bit of his humanity. He stood slowly up and put on his coat. "I have to go", he told Ellen, a young intern sitting at the desk next to him. She looked up at him, her glasses sitting at the end of her nose and she watched him across them. "Something happened?", she asked as her fingers wrapped around a cup of coffee, slowly lifting it up to her lips.

"Some kind of emergency," he told her and her movements stilled, she made a small 'o' with her lips. "Don't worry about it", he told her as he wasn't in the mood to answer any questions or for false pity. He was gone before she couldn't say anything and the ride with the elevator took longer than usually – at least it felt like it even though it must have been only a few seconds before the doors opened again and he walked through the big entrance hall of the building he was working in. The big TV screens hanging on the walls showed the news and he quickly glanced at them. He saw pictures of police cars, flashing blue red and white and a money transporter with two bodies laying in front of it covered by a white sheet. He didn't pay it much attention as people were crossing his path as it was noon, most of them enjoying their break or going out for lunch. As he walked through the doors his eyes fell on a man and he thought he'd maybe seen him earlier that day. He brushed the thought quickly away as if it was just dust sitting on his shoulder and when he stepped outside, he called a cab.

At least it had stopped raining.

He told the driver his destination as he sat and closed the door, looking outside. He saw the man standing in the middle of the hall, watching Malik as people moved like busy little bees around him and he pulled a phone out of his pocket, dialing quickly. He lowered his gaze and when he saw his shoes he knew where he'd seen him before. The one in Marta's corridor just this morning. Huh – talk about coincidence.

The cab driver took off and the further they went through the streets the more he forgot about it and his thoughts returned back to Marta. She was a strong woman. Unfortunately, things like this happened and Marta was old. He wasn't too worried that she could die and that thought made him a little afraid. All these years he took Marta for granted and somehow, he'd thought she would always be there. When Kadar died, Marta was the closest thing he had left of a family. If something would happen to hear he'd be alone. He always ignored that thought and it wasn't any different now. Marta would be alright – she had to.

High buildings and street names were passing by as they drove and Malik turned a little in his seat. They were driving down to the docks. He frowned. "I don't think that's the right way", he said and his eyes found the back of the driver's head. He looked at his license. "Robert", he said as it was the name standing on the small plastic card. "You need to go the opposite direction."

But he didn't answer and he could hear the audible 'click' of the door locks shutting down. "What is this?", he asked him, but Robert tabbed a small sign just above his head over his rearview mirror. 'Do not talk with the driver' it read and Malik reached forward, his fingers curling around the back of his seat. "Stop the car, I want to get out", he told him but the man kept driving. "What the fuck is going on here?", he roared and reached for the small button to let the window down but nothing happened.

He turned back and could see that they were in fact down by the docks, big empty warehouses emerging from the grounds. The glass started fogging and he brushed his fingers across it to get a better look.

The car stopped and Robert turned off the engine, pushing a little button on his door and the window went down before he stepped out. "What the fuck? Wait!" Malik turned quickly back around, his eyes following the man and he tried the door handle but it was still locked. He turned in his seat, trying to look into every direction at once and then decided to climb into the front to escape through the open window.

Then he saw it. A small projectile flying through the open window, hitting the other one at the passenger side and falling into the footwell. The last thing he could remember was thick, white fog engulfing him, lights shinning into the car and a masked man approaching him holding a rifle in his hands and pointing it at Malik. He coughed, trying to cover his mouth with the fabric of his coat but it wasn't any use. He couldn't see anymore and his lungs burned with need for fresh air as his limbs grew heavy and he slumped down on the backseat. His eyes were heavily lidded but he couldn't move anymore and out of the corner of his eye he saw more men approaching, clothed in black with masks covering their faces. It almost looked like war.

He hoped Marta would forgive him.

xxx

The day just gotten worse and worse. It was shortly after they'd finished their coffee when Altair and Toto got the call that one of their vans had been attacked, all the money taken and two guards dead. As if that wasn't bad enough it got all the more real for Altair when he heard it happened on his route, the one he usually drove with James, the very one he switched this morning. It could have been him. It could have been him the one getting taken away in a black body bag.

He took the rest of the day off and called in sick for his second job, walking numb through the city without having a destination. Toto had asked him if they wanted to get a beer at a nearby bar but he declined, not in the mood to be in the company of others. Every so often he stopped at little shops, looking through the windows and watching the news on their TV screens as the attack was all over them. It had stopped raining but there were still heavy clouds painted across the sky, dark and gray and it looked like as if it could start raining again any minute now. It was strangely fitting his mood and he pulled up the hood of his white sweater, trying to disappear in its shadows and blending out all of the other people he met on the streets. He wanted to disappear and not coming back. This country was sickening him, slowly draining him of all his life energy but where else should he go? He'd been to so many places in his life and not once did he feel at home. To be honest, he was rather surprised that he managed to stay for so long now in one place at all. He was used to something differently back from his childhood where they often switched locations as if his parents had always been on the run.

"Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad?"

Altair looked to his side, a black limo had stopped just next to him and he was looking in the face of a young woman. He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and kept walking. The limo followed him.

"I'm Lucy Stilman from Abestergo Industries. I would like to talk with you", she insisted and he could imagine her eyes looking up at him from the backseat. After she said Abstergo he almost zoomed out, ignoring everything else she was saying after that. Not again, fucking hell, no! His day was already bad enough, he couldn't deal with these guys right now.

"I'm not interested. I've told you that multiple times by now", he replied and his mood got fouler by the second now. Those people seriously had a terrible problem with rejection and now it was starting raining again, big fat drops falling from the sky and one hit him in the neck, slowly running down underneath his clothes and across his spine. Altair shivered. It really wasn't his day, was it?

"Well, what can I say – my boss is really interested in you. Would you please join me?"

Altair stopped and turned towards her fully, gritting his teeth that his jaw hurt. "Look, lady-", "Ms. Stilman.", "- Ms. Stilman. I have no idea why you're interested in me so much that you harass me all the time. Whatever it is you're looking for, I assure you it's not me." He made to turn away but her next words stopped him.

"Oh but you're exactly the one we're looking for. In fact, we've been looking for you all your life."

"All my life?" Altair's eyes narrowed. He didn't like the sound of it but when he looked at her he couldn't see any danger in her features. In fact she was radiating a soft blue, a comforting color that made him ease just a little as if a soft blanket was wrapping around his body, keeping the cold away, but he couldn't forget the soft legs of the spider dancing across his spine.

She nodded and opened the door, stepping out of the limo with a black umbrella in her hands. She opened it to hold it over her head to not get wet. The rain slowly became more intense.

He snorted at her. "Yeah, right."

"I think you don't understand Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad", and he was a little impressed that she could pronounce his name without flaw. "We're not the bad guys here."

"It seems we both have very different definitions of 'bad'. Look, I already have two jobs and it's enough money for me to live. I'm not interested and now excuse me." Altair hunched his shoulders and made his way down the street. Lucy kept standing on the same spot he left her, the limo's engine still running. He felt her gaze burning into his back but he didn't care. Tomorrow he would change his phone number, yes and maybe their calls would stop.

"Have you always wondered why you've these strange dreams? Did it ever feel to you as if you don't belong anywhere? That nothing is true?", she called after him.

This – this made him stop and all the muscles in his body went rigid. Altair slowly turned around. She was still standing there in the rain, the drops slowly running down the black surface of her umbrella gathering in a small puddle to her feet, smiling at him. "We can help you find your answers", and for a moment he thought it was true. She looked at him with such honesty that it was hard to believe she was lying.

Altair tilted his head to one side. "What do you know about me?", he asked dangerously low, the rain completely forgotten. He was torn between his options – should he just walk away from her, acting as if the encounter never happened? But he never was the one to take flight. Or should he stay, waiting for what she had to say, what they could offer him and maybe find a way out of this mess that called itself his mind?

"Everything, Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad. We know everything about you."

He didn't like it, not one bit but Altair nodded. Could it get really worse? He didn't think so. Ever so slowly his feet set into motion and he crossed the small distance separating them.

Lucy held the door open for him as he climbed onto the backseat.

xxx

"How the hell did you manage for him to come with you?"

"I simply talked with him – it's what I've told you all along."

"My orders had been different."

"Your orders failed – now we have to deal with the mess of the aftermath. Two people died today. They didn't have to." Lucy crossed her arms in front of her chest. "He's here now isn't he? That's all that really matters." New confidence blossomed in her chest as she could present him his most favorite trophy. Not only his trophy but her ticket to freedom and the thought let goosebumps spread across her skin. She was excited and maybe it'd be her downfall but for the first time in a long time she wasn't afraid – she got the chance for a life now, a life without Abstergo.

Warren Vidic nodded slowly as he stepped away from the glass through which he'd watched him. It felt unreal and his skin was tingling. He had waited for this moment for so long now and couldn't believe it had finally come. He'd been working for this moment all these years and she was right, the circumstances really didn't matter.

"What about the other one?"

"Is waiting in room B 12."

"Did you talk with him as well?", he pondered and the smile he was showing her was mocking.

"Kind of..."


	5. Chapter 5

Altair waited.

He was looking between the large mirror to his left and the door in front of him, his hands resting on the cold metal table he sat at. This... didn't feel right. It didn't look like an office in which you sat when you were about to have a job interview. It looked more like an interrogation room. They had offered him coffee though which he'd accepted and it tasted like piss – nothing compared to Cem's coffee he enjoyed so much. A clock was hanging above the door showing him that it was in the early afternoon now. This was ridiculous – he has waited for an hour now! Just as he was about to get up the door opened, revealing a man in his early fifties and that woman, Lucy. She walked a little behind him and Altair had no doubt that he was the man she had been talking about, her boss.

"Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad. I'm so glad you could manage to follow our invitation. I'm Dr. Vidic." He held up his hand for Altair to shake but he simply stared at it and then back to his face, his ambers eyes reflecting in the man's glasses. Altair didn't move at all and his hand slowly sunk down.

"I would hardly call it invitation", he snorted and Lucy closed the door behind her as the man sat down in front of Altair at the other side of the table.

Vidic rested his elbows and arms on the table, his head hanging low between his shoulders and then he looked back up, a smile spreading around his lips. "Well you see, we're really interested in you and your skills", he smiled, his voice sounding warm and somehow fatherly. He held out one hand and Lucy quickly put a file in there and he opened it in front of him, turning a few pages. "You have a bright mind, Mr. Ibn-la'Ahad", and he looked up at him again, the file still in his hands and Altair craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse at the written words. "Why does an intelligent young man like you working for a security company and uh-", he looked back down onto the page, "a nightclub?"

Altair shrugged with his shoulders. "It's not bad money", he muttered and leaned back into his chair to bring a little distance between him and Vidic. He didn't like him.

"You speak four different languages among English. What were they again? Hebrew, Russian, Italian and... what was the last one?"

"German", Altair said softly and folded his hands in his lap.

Vidic spoke again, "You dropped out of school when you were seventeen. Why?"

Altair's eyes narrowed as he was flexing the muscles in his left hand. "If that file says so much about me then I'm sure you don't really need my answer. Just look it up."

Vidic's smile never died and he looked at Altair as if he had just solved some kind of riddle, all proud and delighted. Was this a test maybe? "You're right Mr. Ibn- or may I call you Altair- "No.", "-well, Altair. You dropped out of school after your parents died, isn't that right?"

He gritted his teeth, jaw working and his cheek's muscle was twitching. "Yes", he forced out between pressed lips.

"Car accident, mh?" Vidic picked something up, a photograph. The paper was thin enough for him to see what it showed on the other side and he looked away. Vidic clicked his tongue and for a moment his brow wrinkled in mild disgust. "Terrible, terrible", he said and shook his head, placing the photograph in front of him and as Altair glanced back up he was greeted by the sight of a destroyed car. It was hardly recognizable, completely wracked. Blood was covering the gray pavement, a piece of flesh showing in the cube of metal and he could only assume that it was a hand with all the bones showing, brain splattered on what had once been the windshield. He looked away again but said nothing.

"Your parents died near Munich. Hit by a ghost driver on the Autobahn going 180 km/h. They were both dead on impact."

"I know", Altair pressed the words out between his lips. "You don't have to tell me again."

"No", Vidic shook his head, smiling again and picked up the picture to place it back into the file. "You're probably right."

"Where did you get all of that? Are you working with the government?" Altair eyed him skeptical. If he learned one thing within the last few minutes, then that this wasn't a pharmaceutical company. Vidic chuckled again and pushed his glasses back on his nose. "I wouldn't call it like that but if that's what you want to believe I won't stop you."

Altair's patience was stretched like a string of bubblegum and it wouldn't take much longer before it'd tear. "Then who are you?"

He closed the file and leaned back in his chair, pulling off his glasses and cleaning them with the hem of his white coat. "Ah you see", he sighed and put them back on, "that's a good question. But I think the one you really want to ask is, who are you?"

"Who I am?"

"Exactly."

"I know very well who I am."

"No, you don't", and for the first time Vidic looked like as his aura felt for Altair, a flashing red light radiating danger. His eyes went cold and distant, almost greedy his face turning into an ugly mask of evil. "You're damaged, Altair. But we could fix you."

"Damaged?" Altair placed both his palms on the table, arms outstretched. "I wasn't in that accident you know?" His chin gestured towards the file laying next to Vidic's hands on the table. "No brain injury or anything."

It only earned him a sharp laugh and Altair looked up at Lucy but her face was as emotionless as it could get, almost as if she was nothing but a statue. "No, I'm not talking about that kind of damage. The problem is right here", and Vidic tapped his temple. Altair didn't understand.

"You see, I'm a scientist", Vidic told him and spread his arms to each side while he leaned heavily back, the chair's legs scratching over the floor in a loud screech and Altair cringed. "A researcher, you know? I assume you suffered from strange dreams? Nightmares?"

Altair nodded slowly though he was seriously considering to just leave. This just got more and more creepy and he wished for nothing more but sitting in Cem's coffee shop and sipping some mocha.

"It must be hard not knowing who you really are – everything feels empty, meaningless doesn't it?" Vidic sat a little more straight and his eyes narrowed, a shadow crawling across his face and Altair felt cold. It seemed the man was finally cutting to the chase. "Do you know Sigmund Freud?"

It wasn't what he'd expected and Altair blinked. "Course I do."

"Freud had a young and very talented apprentice. Carl Jung. Have you ever heard of animus and anima?"

Altair shook his head, no, he didn't.

Vidic sighed as if he was disappointed that he didn't understand and leaned his head to one side, folding his hands in front of him and looking down at them. "Jung believed that the anima and animus are the two primary archetypes of the unconscious mind. He described them as elements of the collective unconscious, a domain that transcends the personal psyche. You know, it is said that the key to controlling one's anima/animus is to recognize it when it manifests and exercise our ability to discern the anima/animus from reality."

He nodded with a frown.

"So basically... we're all acting on our ancestral memories. But there's more. We've designed a machine which lets you enter your ancestors memories and relive them. The Animus." Vidic was a little red in the face as if he was very excited and maybe he really was, some lunatic scientist who would scream any minute now 'It's alive!' and laugh like a maniac. Altair thought the picture of Frankstein's monster fit the situation perfectly – at least when it came to Vidic and that crazy look in his eyes.

And now Altair was lost. "What does this have to do with me?"

"You... you are special, Altair.", Vidic assured him and stood up, walking slowly back and forth. "Not only do you have a very old bloodline... but you actually are your ancestor. A reincarnation." He made a final gesture with his hand. "Your DNA is to 100% identical - as if you're ancestor never died. You actually share the same name!"

He didn't say anything because all of it was just downright ridiculous and he didn't know he'd be able to hold back his laughter. So he just sat there, staring up at Vidic with a complete straight face.

Vidic chose to ignore his look. "As I've told you, you're broken Altair. We can make you complete and you will get all the answers to your questions. How does that sound?"

Altair decided then to just go with it and he glanced shortly at Lucy, trying to read anything in her face but she just stared blankly back at him. "This sounds like something that doesn't come for free", he answered carefully and Vidic chuckled softly. "Why would you want to do this for me?" He didn't say that he didn't believe any of what he'd just been told.

"I'm looking for something, Altair and you know where I can find it."

Altair shook his head and scoffed, slowly getting up and standing behind the table. "No, no, no. I have enough of this. I don't know what kind of freaks you are." He looked between Vidic and Lucy. "Scientology, Mormons or whatever. But whatever it is you're believing in, I don't. Have a good day", and he made his way towards the door but Vidic stepped in front of him.

"I'm sorry Altair, but I fear I can't let you just go. You see, I've been looking for you for years."

"Too bad but it's not my problem." He tried to walk around him but again, the man stepped in front of him and placed one hand on Altair's shoulder, holding him back.

"Oh but yes it is", he nodded and there it was again, that smile of his which looked so fake. Vidic reached behind him and pressed the small button of an intercom. "Show him please."

New light spread into the room and to his left side Altair could see that the mirror vanished, replaced by a smooth window he could finally look through. He could see a room on the other side and there were two guards standing behind a chair with a man sitting in, a black hood covering his face and arms cuffed behind his back. Vidic noted to one of the guards and the man stepped forward, pulling away the black fabric and revealing his face. His black hair was tousled and he looked pale, blinking rapidly against the bright light.

Just... what the hell?

Vidic grasped his shoulder and stood close by, his lips almost brushing Altair's ear as he whispered into it, "He's like you and it was pure luck that we found him. You don't know it yet but he's very dear to you – I wish we didn't have to drag him into this but you left me no choice. Altair Ibn-la'Ahad meet Malik al-Sayf."

The memory collapsed above Altair like a wave, drowning him and pulling him deeper, deeper, deeper into the black abyss of his mind. He groaned and fell, hitting the ground hard with his knees and held his head as pain made it feel like as if it was ripped in two. Malik's name was ringing in his ears and he heard someone screaming but he couldn't breath any longer, gasping for air helplessly as sorrow threatened to crush his heart and smash it into thousand pieces.

"He's panicking", Lucy said and her voice sounded worried but Vidic just held her arm. "No, look", he said softly, smiling still. "I think we just triggered something."

Altair moaned with pain and held his head with both hands, looking back up and his eyes met Malik's who watched with horror. It was the last he saw before he lost consciousness, remembering a man staring at him holding a bloody arm with betrayal in his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

_For us to live, you had to die._

His father died when he'd been elven. Altair had watched as they executed him but it only left one suffering in the end. An elven year old boy who watched his father's beheading, blood staining the grounds as his head fell with empty wide eyes staring up the gray sky. A few years later it happened all over again. The man who'd been as dear to him as his own father died through his blade. Some thought of Al Mualim as a demon, corrupted by the Apple's power, his mind poisoned. For Altair, it wasn't that easy. He couldn't see evil now as he looked at the old man's broken body. All he saw was a man who taught him so much as a child a youth and later as an adult. The worst part was that Altair knew even he didn't dare to get any closer. He was silent for the longest of moments, the fire still cracking. "Sad are only those who understand", Malik said eventually. Altair's head felt just a bit heavier, his muscles tired and heart cold. He had his hood up, shielding him from the soft breeze blowing and from everybody's eyes watching him. He wondered how it was possible for Malik to be so spot on and his shoulders slumped down as he curled the fingers of his left hand into a tight fist. "You know what he always said? We're using lies to tell the truth while the Templars use them to cover the truth up", Altair murmured softly, his words carried away by the wind and sparks were dancing in front of him. He looked up into the dark sky, the wind bringing tears to his eyes. "It makes me wonder now which of those he did."

"Don't confuse yourself Altair. He was fooling us, betraying and compromising our Creed. You did the right thing in the right moment."

"And when the moment ends?"

"When the moment ends it's in the past. The past shouldn't weight you down."

They were quiet after that, both lost in their own memories, fighting their own inner battles. While Altair often enjoyed the silence, today it was just too loud for him to bear. "What are you doing here anyway?", he asked Malik in a raspy voice.

"We are one, Altair", and he thought he could hear the smile in his voice. "As we share the glory of victory-"

"-so too should we share the pain of defeat", Altair finished as it was the same Malik told him back in Jerusalem when he'd told him he was sorry.

"It seems today it's both. Victory and defeat", Malik murmured, placing one hand on Altair's shoulder, squeezing gently. It was actually nice not being alone also Altair was torn between shoving the other man away or relaxing underneath his touch. His muscles went tense anyway and for a split second he trembled, fearing for a moment that he wouldn't be able to control his emotions any longer. He swallowed it all down then and they stood there for a long time until it was deep in the night, the fire had long died and its warmth was gone. Malik had left eventually, leaving Altair by himself and when the ash had cooled down he took a fistful of it, stretching his arm out and then letting go, all of it, the gray flakes flying away with the wind just like the memory he had of a man that no longer existed.

xxx

When he woke up it felt like as if somebody had hit him across the head with a hammer. The world was foggy and it took him a few seconds before he could find the strength to open his eyes. He blinked and the room was spinning as he was nauseas. He was on a drip-feed, laying in a bed in a complete white room. For a small moment his sluggish brain thought it looked straight from a horror movie. Altair wanted to rip off the tubes going to his nose, helping him breath but he found his hands restrained to the bed frame, soft leather manacles wrapped around his wrists and holding him in place. The soft noise of beeping filled the room, the lights dim and it seemed it was late in the evening. There was a window to his left and he could watch the city lying to his feet.

"I'm sorry for these."

Lucy pushed herself off the wall to his right side and Altair glared at her, gritting his teeth. "Then take them off", he told her, his eyes never leaving her frame as she slowly walked around the bed, watching the monitors and changing something on his IV. "I will in a moment." He didn't try pulling at his restraints – he always thought it looked ridiculous when they did it on TV. If he wanted to get out of here he wouldn't need his muscular strength but his mind. Now – first things first.

"What happened?" He licked across his chapped lips and his voice sounded hoarse, his throat was dry. Since it was already dark outside he assumed he'd been unconsciousness for at least a few hours. He sighed heavily and his head sunk a little further into the pillow – did they drug him? He felt almost too weak to move at all. "You had a small seizure", Lucy told him straight forward and Altair looked at her frowning, tilting his head to one side, eyes narrowing. "Uhm... what?" Lucy sighed and she rubbed her temple with one hand. "You see, I think-", she sighed again and her hand dropped back to the side of her body. "How much do you remember from today?", and she was holding his gaze, arms crossed in front of her chest.

Altair sighed and he closed his eyes, trying to brush the wafts of mist from his mind. "I remember... coming here. You picked me up", and his amber eyes opened again, glaring at her with actual betrayal. He had trusted her and learned one more time that no one could be trusted in this world anymore. It didn't mean it hurt any less. "I remember talking with Vidic...", he murmured and coughed, Lucy quickly reacting and holding up a glass filled with water and a straw inside so he could drink. After Altair swallowed she put the glass back onto the small table to his side. He looked back at her and for a short moment there were two Lucy's standing there, his vision blurring.

"Everything is just blank after that..." He remembered Malik but he didn't say it – maybe it was better if he would just keep it to himself. But heremembered him even if it wasn't much. A man he knew from his past but Altair couldn't say which past anymore. Vidic's words still echoed inside his head like a mantra and it was difficult to grasp their whole meaning as he didn't understand any of it yet. This shit was just too crazy too believe. But he would get there – he would get to the truth. He wondered what had happened between waking up and going to work and then coming here, as if somebody had just pushed him into some kind of weird parallel universe. "He said he could fix me", he added and now he did pull at his bindings even though it was just a bit but it really started to get uncomfortable and fuck, he just wanted to go home now.

"Yes he can. We can help you, Altair." Her eyes fell on his wrists. "I will take them off now. We've put them on so you wouldn't hurt yourself..."

"And here I thought I was some kind of prisoner", and Altair expected Lucy to laugh and wave him off, telling him how silly he was for thinking that but her lips turned into a grim line instead. "I'm not a prisoner, am I?", he pondered carefully and Lucy's hands flew across his skin, taking one wrist to release him. "You're not...", she shook his head, her voice soft and quiet.

"But?" Altair looked up at her and drew his hand towards his chest once his left one was free.

"There's no but", and his right hand was free was well. "We're really hoping for you to help us Altair", she was almost looking at him with pleading eyes. "It's a fair deal we offer. You help us and we help you."

That couldn't be true. Lucy might try convincing him nothing bad would happen but Altair knew better. He remembered Malik, staring at him with wide eyes. He had only gotten a few seconds to look at him, but he'd seen that he'd been beaten. "If I'm not a prisoner then what am I?", he asked her instead.

"I would hope for you to become a partner... some kind of business partner", she shrugged with her shoulders and walked around his bed, leaning next to the window with her arms crossed behind her back and she seemed smaller, more fragile... sad actually.

Sad are only those who understand.

Altair hissed with pain, his hand coming up to his temple. His head hurt, a sharp pain which felt like as if it would rip him in two. Lucy leaned her head to one side, her eyebrows rising with worry. "Everything alright?"

Altair nodded and swallowed a whimper, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I just... need a few... seconds", he groaned.

"What?"

"Just a few seconds", he said again and looked up at her, watching how she stepped closer, her hands placed onto the bed as she leaned forwards. "Altair...?" His eyes were flashing, turning bright and almost yellow for half a second. She pushed herself back, moving towards the door. "Maybe I should call Dr. Vidic..."

"What?", Altair called after her, turning in his bed. "What does that mean? Hey! Where are you going?" But she left without saying another word, almost fleeing the room and he could hear a key turning in a lock. Great. No prisoner, huh? Bullshit. Altair pushed back the blanket covering him and, oh joy, they stripped him off his clothes, leaving him wearing nothing but boxers and a white t-shirt. He was still weak on his legs as he stood and he walked towards the window. He was high above the ground and able to watch over the whole city. It was actually kind of a nice view. He'd always liked heights even when he'd been a kid, no tree or rock could ever be high enough for him not to climb and he often watched the birds passing through the sky, wishing he was one of them and free like an eagle.

"... I think he's Bleeding, or something", he heard a faint voice coming from the other side of the door and he turned a little.

"How's that possible? We didn't even start yet."

"I don't know, you tell me!"

The door flung open and he stood once more in front of Lucy who was followed by Vidic. His eyes narrowed at them and his hand turned into a tight fist as he gritted his teeth. "I see you're up and well?", he asked Altair, a delightful smile playing around his lips, looking like a kid on Christmas morning about to open all the presents.

He's like you and it was pure luck that we found him.

Vidic still smiled at him and Altair wanted to wipe it off his face forever. "So?", Vidic beckoned at him but he refused to get any closer. Altair slowly shook his head and the man sighed, turning towards Lucy. "This won't get us anywhere Ms. Stillman."

You don't know it yet but he's very dear to you.

Lucy took one step forward, sensing his distress. "Altair, he's here to help you. You had a seizure. That's nothing you should take easy. He just wants to do some tests with you, see if everything is functioning as it should be."

I wish we didn't have to drag him into this but you left me no choice.

Lucy slowly lifted her hand and it was only then that he realized he had reached the end of the room, slowly walking backwards and his shoulders met the cool glass of the window behind him. Lucy was looking at him as if he was a scared little fawn. He hated her pity, her fake sympathy.

"Altair... come on boy. Talk with me", Vidic smiled but his eyes narrowed, his mouth smiling but the rest of his face didn't show anything friendly at all.

Altair Ibn-la'Ahad meet Malik al-Sayf.

And something just snapped inside of Altair. "Fuck you", he told him and Vidic's eyebrows shot up in surprise, meeting the line of his hair. "Oh, I see", he told Lucy and focused back on Altair. "Do you realize you're not speaking English?"

Altair blinked – and blinked again, head tilted to one side giving the impression of a confused dog. "What?", he mouthed the word, all of his anger forgotten. "You're speaking Arabic. Very ancient Arabic I dare to say, a dialect not many are familiar with these days. So – could you please switch back to English?" Vidic made a small circling motion with his hand and while he was still smiling, he also looked a little annoyed. When nothing happened, Altair just standing there and staring back at them, he sighed and looked up the ceiling. "Ms. Stillman? A word outside please?"

Lucy looked from between Altair and Vidic and in the end, her eyes settled on Altair as she noted, her gaze never leaving his face. "Of course", she told him, following the man outside and into the hall.

When the door closed behind them, Altair slowly slumped down the window until he sat onto the ground. Earlier he wondered what had gone wrong between him getting up that morning and going to work and ending up here – he thought he kind of knew it now. It seemed as if he'd lost himself somewhere in between.

xxx

"I think we set something off earlier. He's starting to Bleed but I would rather see him in the Animus. We can control the Bleeding there – I don't want somebody like him loose. Do you understand?"

Lucy nodded slowly. "He's a wild beast Ms. Stillman and you should not pity him. I can see it in your eyes", Vidic warned her, then sighed theatrically. "It's always the same with you women. You see a hurt man and it's the same as if you see a cute little puppy. This is no puppy, he's a wolf and he wouldn't hesitate killing you. Men like Altair need a muzzle. He needs the Animus."

She swallowed again. "Yes Sir."

"Good. Now...", Vidic lowered his voice so it was barely just above a whisper. "Tell him we're going to do a few tests – just about everything that could get damaged during a seizure. If he agrees... you put him into the machine. Tell him it's for testing his brain function or something. I'm sure a bright young woman like you can think of something? He seems to like you better", Vidic grinned and Lucy felt sick to her stomach.

"You really want to go through with this?", she asked him even though she knew the answer. "Once he's woken up he probably won't remember anything from his life in the 21th century. You're going to erase his old personality, old memories." She shuddered a little and while Vidic had told her not to pity him, she did. Nobody should suffer such fate.

Vidic watched her, his hands crossed behind his back. "His whole life has been a lie – I'm just going to show him the truth."


End file.
